Apotheosis
by Indestruction
Summary: The end of Fear of Death and Death himself by the Immortalization of humanity.


All Fear of Death could see was the tips of his cloak and the shining blade of his scythe. The pale green glow of sepsis creeping from his throne, the bleached white bones of the long cursed holding their captor upon a high pedestal. And the feared dog of Death, a grim, who sat so still. The fur was, as always, falling. Clumps sat a still as death upon the floor. Fear of Death never liked that grim. A scream resounded around the mausoleum as a new soul descended from the heavens, a pure white soul, the epitome of purity. A bad tasted welled into the mouth of Fear of Death, the white ones were not enough. There needs to be more than those! Fear of Death's thoughts were silenced as Death stood and slammed the butt of his gleaming scythe on the ground. The tombs coating the walls and floor of the Pale Mausoleum shook as they smelled the purity in the air, their sepsis was growing as their motion was disturbing their slumber. The pungent scent crawled across the floor as the soul arrived in front of Death and his grim. The standing god took a step forward and he came into light. His black cloak was far too large for him, it came down and smothered his whole body; all you could see was his smooth, pale hands and he gripped his scythe even tighter. "So, the humans finally grant me an audience with them." Death smiled at the small white soul locked onto his black-clad form. "I was wondering when your _medicine_ would fail you. I am inevitable." The smug look on Death's face contorted his decidedly handsome features, feral. The soul spoke, her, he just noticed, voice was soft yet not meek. She was retaining strength in the presence of Death. "I will be your last meal Death. You have lost." Fear of Death felt a pang in his chest, a familiar ache. "Foolish girl. Many far braver and stronger have said those very words to me." He stepped off to the side and swept his arm back dramatically revealing his throne of bone. "And there they now reside." She looked upon his throne, nonplussed at the fearsome sight. He made his way closer to the disgustingly pure soul, scythe glinting in the faint light of the sputtering torches and his cloak billowing impressively behind the divine being. As he moved his hood fell limply from his head. On his head rested a crown inlaid with amethyst and made of pure silver, sharply contrasting with his dark brown, nearly black hair. The god looked like a normal teen; fairly tall, maybe around 5' 7" and was very skinny with a young, angular face with a sharp jaw and nose with prominent cheekbones that framed his unusual eyes. His eyes held contempt befitting an immortal. His gait was long and strong and as he strode to the young girl's soul, his scythe was held carefully, just above the ground, nearly scratching it. The girl stood strong and held her ground against the malignant god on approach. "I was fated to died." The girl's oddly strong voice carried across the room, "They prepared me as much as possible, they made sure I was to be the last meal of Death. I was told to tell you, Our apotheosis is complete." Death looked nonplussed at the declaration. "Now that you mention it." He look thoughtfully at the casks on the wall. "The past hundred or so souls have said something about your so-called apotheosis. I, for one, don't believe that you will be the last." Fear of Death was beginning to believe the humans really were becoming immortal. The only meals that Death has have in the past few weeks were all younglings. And all mentioned that blasted word, apotheosis. As if mortals could achieve the birthright of the immortals. Fear of Death's thought intensified the sour taste in his mouth. Death could not die. "It's the truth" she vehement denial of fate amused the death god immensely, showcased by a feral grin that marred his face. He swung his scythe casually, causing the soul to shift. "Girl, I don't think you understand just _how_ many time people have claimed to be the last, just _how_ many have challenged me, I am inevitable. I am unbeatable." The girl only smiled lightly, head shaking. "I promise you, Death. Not one more soul shall come to your door." A swooping lunge from Death made the girl flinch but his scythe, that was put into motion, flew towards Fear of Death. The servant did not move, knowing he was not the target. The cruel blade of the reaper pierced a chain holding a coffin to the wall. _Creeeak, Foooom._ The coffin now laid at the feet of Fear of Death who, with a flick of Death's hand, brought the sarcophagus to his master. "This sarcophagus is famous. The very first pharaoh's coffin. A beauty." his words were reinforced by his loving and tender motion as he wiped the dust away. "I will be your home for the rest of eternity." He opened the tomb. The smell choked the young girl. He whispered inaudibly as he suddenly moved and the girl barely had time to scream before the lid slammed shut, no sound escaping. He kicked the girl's new home and motion for Fear of Death to set it back into its place. Fear of Death moved quickly and the sarcophagus found itself back home. Fear of Death tentatively walked to his master. "Wh-what do we, uh, do now *cough*, my lord." The god leaned back into his chair as he spoke "That girl told no lies." Fear of Death's face contorted into confusion. "What do you mean, master. Mere mortals could not possibly become immortal." Death slammed his fist into the arm of his throne and the smell of sepsis became stronger. "I feel no future deaths. She truly was the last Fear of Me. It's the end of order. If the humans wish for immortality so bad they must live with the consequences. The dead that rest here will not stay here without Death being here." Death continued, ignoring the confusion written on Fear of Death's face. "When I fade the sarcophagi here in the Pale Mausoleum will open and unleash hell upon the Earth. That should teach the humans about meddling in the natural order." Fear of Death looked around. Death was old, and his mausoleum was massive; the ceiling faded from sight millennia ago and the sheer number of sarcophagi made the servant shudder. Hell would relocate to Earth if, no _when_ , Death fades. Fear of Death felt pity well in his chest. "Bu-but, my lord, couldn't we do _anything_ to preserve your life." Death gave Fear of Death a cold look, his pale blue eyes piercing the soul of his servant. "If I _could_ do something I would have. Apotheosis is a dangerous thing, an unbalancer. If Death has no food, he dies. If there is no Death, no one can die. Sounds wonderful to the humans; they will learn their error soon." Death spoke as he stood. _Crack_. Death broke one of the bones of his throne and it slowly reshuffled is an eerie symphony of _clack, clack, snap_ and a sarcophagus was in its place. "Come Fear of Me, it's time." Fear of Death nodded, unwilling to disobey his master. Death placed his hand upon Fear of Death, the first time since Fear of Death's conception. The servant's bleachy skin turned black as pitch as it rotted away, revealing the decomposing sinews and flesh underneath. Soon Fear of Death was nought but bones. Death flexed his hand as he looked upon the bones of Fear of Death. "You were a faithful servant Fear of Me. We shall rest in the Void, in peace." Death pulled himself into the sarcophagus. The lid began to close and he took the crown from his head and placed it upon his chest. Death breathed one last time as the lid closed and a lid, from high above, struck the ground shattering into thousands of pieces and hell rained from the heavens. More soon joined the first and the air was thick with porcelain shrapnel and the dead as they began to rise once more.


End file.
